


Kindred Spirits

by SWLBarnes



Series: Supernatural Imagines [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Not Beta Read, Other, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Soulmate AU, Wingfic, gender neutral reader, soulmates can see an angels wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 10:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18589288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWLBarnes/pseuds/SWLBarnes
Summary: Why are you the only person that can see Jack’s wings?





	Kindred Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> cross post from my tumblr!! ppl seemed to enjoy this fic over there so I thought it was only fair that I bring it over to ao3 as well. I'm a sucker for soulmate AUs, so I had to do one with Jack. enjoy!

Taking Jack in after everything was strange to say the least. The boy was always exceedingly kind to you and consistently tried his best to make everyone around him happy, yet opinions on him were quite divided in the bunker for quite a while. While you and Sam both held strong to the idea that he was inherently good despite his parentage, Dean couldn’t seem to shake his grudge against him. Every time the poor kid tried to do something for the team, Dean would always be prepared with a snarky remark. 

Another thing about Jack’s presence in the bunker that had your mind twisted in confusion was the large pair of wings behind his back. You had never really seen an angel’s wings before, and from what you knew of angel lore, no one but other angels really could see them. Cas has tried to explain it to you one night as you sat side by side in the library of the bunker, but he tended to use references to sciences that humans had no grasp of yet, making the whole thing a bit pointless, really. Needless to say, it was a pretty big shock when you took in the sight of the young nephilim’s wings. Was this because he was a nephilim? Do nephilims usually have their wings out and visible? You wanted nothing more than to come forward to the boys with all of your questions, but something about it felt… wrong. Surely if it was polite to ask about an angel’s wings, then they would have mentioned them already. Perhaps it was even dangerous to ask, seeing as Dean had no intentions of remaining civil with the boy, and he, too, remained silent on the matter. Besides, they were the ones that knew more about nephilims. Maybe it was best to just follow their lead. 

It just didn’t add up. How were you the only one to notice them? His wings were massive. Jack was by no means a small man, but something about the vast size of his wingspan made his body seem minuscule. The grand appendages arched upwards from his back, looming above his head and shoulders before reaching out a few feet on either side of his body. Most of the feathers adorning them were a glimmering white that seemed to reflect back every color of the rainbow when hit perfectly with the light. Towards the bottom of each wing were a few rows of pure golden feathers. They each ended in a sharp point, the metallic fluff gleaming in a way that no earthly creature could. Everything about his wings gave off such a purely celestial energy, and to be honest, just looking at them made you feel utterly sinful.

You really did try your best to keep quiet about the whole thing. You promise you did. Sometimes you just… can’t do that, though. You cared about Jack incredibly deeply, and that was the exact reason that you had to speak up.

“I’m just saying, Dean, we can’t leave him here alone. Who knows who could come for him here? He’s not ready to defend himself alone. Plus, we need all hands on deck with this case. We should bring Jack with us,” Sam insisted from his place behind his laptop at one of the library tables. You raised a brow, peering over the research book in your lap. You were reclined in one of the plush armchairs off to the side, while Dean and Jack sat with Sam, one in front of him, and one by his side, respectively. 

Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest for what you could only assume was dramatic effect. “It’s too dangerous, the kid stays here. (Y/N) can look after him, we’ll do the hunt just the two of us.” His tone left no room to argue, yet Sam still managed to worm his way in for a rebuttal.

“Seriously?” The younger brother groaned incredulously. “We have no idea what this thing is, and you want to go in without backup? Look, whatever this is, it’s nothing we’ve faced before. Four men, all drained of blood by five crescent shaped puncture wounds to the neck. Not a bite mark, not a normal stab wound, nothing like that. We have nothing to go off of, and we need extra help. I’m just saying, Jack would be an asset.”

Dean opened his mouth, ready to retort, but you were quicker to the punch. “Jack can’t go, though,” you stated matter of factly. The room fell silent, and after a moment, you risked a look up to meet the three pairs of eyes looking your way. Dean appeared to be smug, as he usually was when you took his side in arguments. Sam’s jaw hung slightly ajar in shock at your claim. But Jack’s was the worst. Not only did his facial expression convey his deep betrayal, but his naturally shining, vibrant, proud wings hung low and dragged on the floor, the feathers dulled significantly. He looked broken. You immediately averted your gaze, unable to meet his eyes knowing you were the cause of that reaction.

“What? Are you seriously taking his side in this? After all your serious sit downs you’ve had telling him that Jack is a useful addition to the team, all those times you’ve given Jack pep talks, all that, yadda yadda yadda, was that all just fake?” Sam spat. His hazel eyes burned holes in your head. His jaw was clenched in an attempt to bite back on any words he might regret later. 

Your eyes grew wide at the sudden fury radiating off the younger Winchester, but what shocked you even more were his words. How dare he say that? How dare he, in front of Jack, insinuate that you didn’t care about the nephilim’s well-being? You had been nothing but kind to him since he arrived, and you were forever grateful to have him around. But how could Sam not see the issue in all of this? “What are you talking about, Sam? Of course I believe all of that! I think Jack is a gift to this team and you know it, so don’t you dare suggest otherwise, especially in front of him. I care about Jack just like you do. I’d put my life on the line for him time and time again, and I think he’s one of the kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever met. Don’t you dare tell him I don’t,” you nearly growled out in reply. Your eyes were narrowed and you leaned forward to deliver him a glare of the same caliber. 

Sam seemed taken aback by your comeback, but he refused to let you shock him into silence. “Oh really?” He scoffed. “Then what’s the problem, huh? Why can’t the kid come with us on this case? What could possibly be more important than keeping him safe with us?”

Finally, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to care if it was rude anymore, you were doing this for Jack’s own good. “His _WINGS!_ ” You cried out, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation. “There, are you happy? I said it! Jack has wings! And I refuse to bring him somewhere that he can be captured by _humans_ and treated like some kind of lab rat experiment!” You knew all too well how red your face was by this point. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears as you fought to catch your breath. 

You waited for the gasps of disgust at your poor taste in words. You expected to be scolded within an inch of your life for having disrespected the signal of Jack’s power. You waited. Then you waited. Then you waited some more. And after waiting just a little more, you looked up to meet their expressions. They were far from the angry faces you had expected. Instead they just seemed… confused. 

“Okay, now you lost me. What are you getting at here?” Dean questioned with furrowed brows. Your gaze darted back and forth between the three men expectantly, waiting for them to laugh and assure you that they were only joking, but they didn’t. Their faces held steady.

You felt much of your anger melting away into confusion. “I… what? Why are you guys so confused? I mean, he’s got… wings. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, I’m not saying they’re bad. I think they’re absolutely gorgeous and they look really soft and nice, but other people aren’t going to be so understanding and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if someone got to you, Jack,” You rambled on. Your nervousness quickly got the better of you under the nephilim’s watchful, curious gaze. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t attracted to the boy. It often made life in the bunker with him quite difficult, to say the least, what with his constant vibrant smile and carefree nature. After realizing you enjoyed binging on your favorite shows in your free time, he insisted on regularly sitting down together to watch whatever shows or movies you wanted him to see. He didn’t quite understand all of the concepts taking place in each of the plots, but he always tried his best, and he ALWAYS had your favorite snacks and enough blankets to last the winter. Little things like that were what made the hunting life more bearable, and most of those little things seemed to come from Lucifer’s son himself.

Sam looked to you, then to Jack, then back at you. “Are you saying that you… can see his wings?” He wondered aloud, gesturing towards Jack with one hand. You nodded slowly. This didn’t seem to be the answer he had expected, as he immediately asked again. “Like, right now? Right now you see wings… on _him?_ ” This time he added a second hand to the gesturing, clearly focusing the movements towards the boy’s torso. Jack shuffled a bit in his seat, but remained silent. 

“Yes, Sam! Yes, I see Jack’s wings. Yes, I see them _right now._ They’re huge and white at the top and at the bottom some of the feathers are gold. One of them is tucked up to his back while the other is- oh, no, Jack! No, please don’t hide them away, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you!” You reached a hand out towards Jack in an attempt to comfort him, only to find that you were much too far away to do such a thing, especially since he had pulled the wing closest to you back in towards his back while you were speaking. His feathers ruffled a bit at your words, his eyes widening to match the subtle movement.

The nephilim turned his gaze to Dean before looking to Sam, clearly seeking an explanation. Each of the brothers could give him nothing but blank, questioning gazes. Dean leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table as he did so. “(Y/N), have you seen Jack’s wings the whole time we’ve known him?”

“Of course…”

“And you didn’t think to, oh I don’t know, freaking tell us about that?” His tone held an edge of anger that you were unsure how to process. The eldest Winchester seemed to snap at you far more often since Jack joined the team, and you were usually able to brush his words off and move on. This time, though, you weren’t sure if his annoyance was a result of Jack’s presence of your lack of action.

“I didn’t think anything of it! I thought everyone could see them!” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive manner. Dean’s body moved with his eyes as they rolled up to the ceiling and then back down to you once again.

“Seriously? You thought we wouldn’t mention that our new housemate has huge freaky wings growing out of his back? I can’t say that’s something I would usually overlook!”

A low groan passed through your lips at this. “Oh, really, Dean? I’m sorry that I didn’t find it odd enough to mention Jack’s wings. I was a little busy with my usual daily tasks, like trying to save your mother from another dimension and killing the last Prince of Hell! I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but Jack having wings is probably the least strange thing I’ve told you this week,” you growled out. After a beat of silence, you decided you couldn’t hold back your other grievance with his words. “And don’t call his wings ‘freaky,’ Dean. If you could see them you’d be singing Jack’s praises. They’re absolutely gorgeous, and guess what? You can’t argue, because apparently, I’m the only one of us humans that knows what they’re talking about!” With that, you sat back with a smug grin. 

Dean, however, did not agree with your assumption that you won the argument. He gave a simple annoyed huff in response. “I still think you should’ve told us. Surely you didn’t think we were just ignoring them or whatever?”

You gave a vague shrug to this. “You two are the ones that did most of the research on nephilims, so I thought there might be some respect thing about mentioning them. I was just following your lead with this whole thing.”

Sam shook his head, deciding now would be the best time to interject before your voices began to rise once again in a resurrected argument. “Alright, let’s just forget the whole ‘you should’ve told us’ thing right now. What’s important is figuring out _why_ you can see his wings. What does that even mean?” The taller of the brothers queried, his brows knitted together. Worry lines creased his forehead, much like the ones that made themselves visible on Jack and Dean.

You shrugged your shoulders once again in as nonchalant of a manner as you could. “Does it matter? It doesn’t really seem like a life threatening situation. It’s not a big deal, and we’ve got enough on our plates as it is, don’t you think?” You insisted. Your fingers tapped absentmindedly on the arm of the couch as the three men took a silent moment to think.

“I still don’t like it,” Dean muttered in annoyance, his gaze fixated on a minute pocket of air a few inches from his face.

“You don’t like much of anything nowadays,” was your comment in reply. This earned you a callous glare from the older hunter. 

Sam let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair. His arms stretched over his head, bent at the elbows so he could rub at his exhaustion ridden eyes. “I don’t know,” he spoke through a groan. “I don’t think it’s dangerous, but I’d still like to know why, you know? It might be important later on down the road.” You decided to drop the subject with a sigh, standing up to grab a new book of lore from a nearby shelf. Much to your satisfaction, they all seemed to follow suit, and the bunker library fell silent once more.

After that day, you began to notice the little things that started to change. You and Jack became closer than ever, the boy seeming to crave spending quality time with you whenever he could. Sometimes when night would fall and the nephilim’s demons continued to brawl inside his head, he would make his way into your room. It was easy to tell the difference between Jack’s footsteps approaching and either of the brothers. Dean’s steps were heavy and slightly uneven, and they echoed off the stone walls like a blaring police siren. Sam’s feet hit the ground with less force, but that didn’t make them any less noticeable. His boots still clacked noisily against the floors despite all of his efforts to remain quiet. Jack, however, was a whole different story. Jack’s bare feet shuffled almost silently up to your closed bedroom door on those nights. He wasn’t the biggest fan of shoes, and if he was allowed to go without them, then he would do so in a heartbeat. He would knock on your door, calling out that it was Jack, and asking if he could come in, just like you had taught him. Once he got your approval, he would step inside, closing the door behind him before diving into your bed and curling up next to you. Sometimes he would want to talk about it, other times he just remained silent. You trusted him to do what he felt he needed most, so you never pushed him. You just reached out and ran your fingers through his feathers until he drifted off to sleep at your side. 

Sam continued to scour every piece of angel and nephilim lore he could find in an attempt to find an answer to your little winged mystery, but everything he read just came up empty. Most hunters didn’t even know angels existed, and most of the readings from nonhunters were just speculation. Even still, nothing he found could give him an answer. If the Men of Letters didn’t know about it, then he wasn’t sure how it settled with him.

It wasn’t until the brothers went out on their own hunt in Grand Junction that anything came of it all. In other words, it wasn’t until Castiel came back that you had any answers.

Your reunion with the seraph was tear filled to say the least. You remember clinging desperately to his form, your fingers curling into the familiar beige trenchcoat as if it might fade away any second, taking your dear friend with it. Jack was quick to show off his progress with his powers, much to your amusement. Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on the way his wings twitched in anticipation of his adoptive father’s reaction, and the smile that broke out on his face when Castiel praised him was enough to send your heart racing. Oh, you had surely fallen, and you had fallen _hard._

Your mind hardly registered the complexity of your situation with Jack anymore at that point. You came to find that his wings were just as expressive as his face, and you were soon able to read the most minor of twitches and flutters with ease. This only served to bring you even closer to the man. It was that exact closeness that eventually led to Castiel’s discovery of your predicament.

You sat in one of the old wooden chairs in the library, Jack seated just to your left. The pair of you gazed listlessly at the dust ridden lore books splayed out on the table in front of you. Across the table sat the two older hunters and your angel companion, each one with their own piece of research material, whether it be in the form of a laptop or another one of the decrepit tomes stocked in the Men of Letters library. 

The air of the bunker always seemed to carry a certain chill to it that never ceased to send chills up and down your frame. This night was surely no exception. You tugged desperately at the flannel covering your shoulders in an attempt to conserve some of your body heat, but your efforts were naught; the goosebumps along your arms remained undefeated. 

Another all consuming shiver rattled your form before you decided to speak up. “Would it kill you boys to turn up the heating in this place?” You muttered in annoyance as you tugged your knees up towards your chest in order to keep warm. Dean peered up at you from over the top of his laptop screen, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? A little chilly?” He mused. His tone was far from comforting, and the sound caused you to let out a huff of annoyance. “Why don’t you just go grab a jacket?”

You rolled your eyes in reply. “Because I’m inside at home and I shouldn’t have to wear fifty layers of clothing just to keep from freezing to death in the good year of 2019,” you insisted. You were on the verge of teeth chattering at this point, and therefore you made sure to speak through your teeth as if you were simply angry with the eldest Winchester - little did he know that you simply couldn’t talk any other way without sounding like a fool.

Sam let out a chuckle, only for the sound to be cut off with a cough as soon as your glare fell on him. His eyes focused back on the screen in front of him, his face wiped clean of his previous amusement. _Good boy._

Jack turned to you with a look of concern etched into his features. “You’re cold?” He queried, his eyes scanning over the way your hands were rubbing relentlessly at your upper arms. You let out a hum and gave a quick nod of your head. At this reply, Jack wasted no time in unfurling his wings. The wing closest to you curled around just behind your back and around your shoulders. You were instantly encased in the warmth and the soft comfort of the nephilim’s wings. Your eyes fluttered closed, and for just a moment you allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of his fledging flight feathers brushing against your skin. 

A low hum of approval passed through your lips, a sound your brain only partially recognized before it left you. Your body curled subconsciously into Jack’s little embrace. “That’s a lot better,” you murmured, your voice hardly a whisper in the still air of the bunker library. “Thank you, Jack.”

You opened your eyes to look at the man by your side, and you were pleased to see the bright smile on his face. You were quick to return his expression before turning back to your lore book to continue translating the old ancient Greek text. Your plan to continue on as normal didn’t last very long, however, as only moments later Castiel spoke up in the quiet atmosphere.

“(Y/N)...” He pressed, his tone insistent but maintaining a soft edge as not to frighten you. You looked up towards the angel to assure him that you were listening. He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his chair, if that was even possible for the eons old soldier anymore. “Do you… Do you happen to see Jack’s wings…?”

The question was a simple one. You’d been over this before. You’d talked through this with the boys already. Even after that first conversation, Dean insisted on asking you repeatedly for a few days afterwards just to try to catch you in some elaborate lie. There was nothing that should have made you pause about his line of questioning, but still, you found yourself hesitating at the sound of the query coming off of _Castiel’s_ lips. This was an angel. He knows these things. This was different.

Your throat grew dry when sapphire blue eyes locked with your own. You did all you could to force down the rising lump in your throat, finally bringing yourself to squeak out a feeble, “yes…?” in response. You reached out and grabbed your beer bottle from the table, easily bringing it to your lips and taking a swig. Whether you were seeking out the dull buzz from the alcohol or the relief the liquid brought to your suddenly parched throat, you could never be sure.

This interaction didn’t go unnoticed by the taller of the two Winchesters. Sam’s head poked up from behind his laptop once again, his brows tugged together so much so that his forehead became littered with creased lines. “Cas? Do you know what that means? I’ve been scouring the lore night and day trying to find something, and I couldn’t find a single recorded instance of this,” he informed the angel, his voice dripping with concern.

Cas gave a dismissive shake of his head at the taller man’s efforts. “I wouldn’t expect it to be recorded anywhere. Soulmates are far too sacred for such things.” Castiel’s voice was always gruff, but there was something about this new information that sent his tones even deeper with thought.

Dean instantly began sputtering wildly at his friend’s simplistic statement. “You said the _what now?_ " He cried out. The hunter’s eyes were saucers of emerald, glinting with the shock of what he just learned.

Cas finally broke from his reverie long enough to turn his eyes to the bewildered man to his right. His squinted gaze flickered to and from Dean’s expression. “I believe I spoke quite clearly. If (Y/N) is able to see Jack’s wings, then the only answer is that they are soulmates,” he clarified.

Your face was surely somewhere close to cherry red at that point, your jaw dropped open in utter shock. You couldn’t believe it. How could you believe such a thing? Jack was a creature that was truly one of a kind. Born of an archangel and a human and stronger than the devil himself, he was a symbol of hope for the future of humanity. You? You were just some poor sap that got roped into a life of nightmares and loss. The idea that _he_ was meant to be with _you_ so much so that the fates demanded it, it was dizzying. 

Against all of your better judgment, you turned to spare a glance at the nephilim by your side. Much to your surprise, you didn’t find a fuming, disappointed hybrid, but a bubbly young man with a childlike excitement in his eyes. A broad smile adorned his lips and his chest puffed outwards with swelling pride. The wings on his back ruffled as they shifted to make themselves larger as well. The one wrapped around your form curled a bit tighter, pressing you closer to his chair. 

“So,” Jack chirped, “does that mean that we’re meant to be together like Anakin and Padmé?”

You and Sam both visibly winced at the insinuation, but Castiel was the one to speak up. “Perhaps they aren’t the best idea of romance and healthy human relationships.”

Dean scoffed, snatching his beer from the table and tipping it back to take a swig. “Understatement of the century, man. He did kinda end up killing her when she was pregnant with their twins then spent his time undoing her life’s work to restore the democracy to the galaxy, but sure. Maybe they’re just a _little iffy._ ”

Sam smirked and turned to Dean with his arms crossed over his chest. “I wasn’t aware you were well versed in Star Wars lore, Dean,” he teased, much to the older man’s annoyance.

“It’s Star Wars, man,” he muttered. “‘Course I’ve seen it. And the prequels were garbage.”

That was it, you had to speak up. “Guys!” You shouted, causing all four men to jump in their seats in fright. Their bewildered gazes landed on you. “Are you seriously talking about Star Wars when we just learned that Jack and I are soulmates? Can we please gain a little perspective!” You snapped. Jack’s wing pressed into your back in an attempt to comfort you, and to be honest, it did the job. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Sam muttered, turning to Cas once again. “So, what exactly does this whole thing mean?”

Cas leaned back in his chair. His hands clasped together in his lap. “It is really quite self explanatory. An angel’s wings can only be seen by other angels and, in very special cases, that angel’s intended soulmate.” A pleased smile stretched across his lips as his eyes flickered back and forth between you and Jack. “Not many angels have the fortune of getting a soulmate, so this is truly quite remarkable. I’m glad you two have found each other. You deserve all the comfort your bond brings.”

Though you remained rigid with shock, you couldn’t help the smile blooming on your face from the sentiment. Castiel might be a ferocious warrior trained and worked as a soldier for eons, but at the end of the day the seraph would always be a huge softie. 

“So is this like, God hath come down and decreed that these two shall bang?” Dean asked as bluntly as possible. You were sure that by that point, all the blood in your body was circulating through only your face and cheeks.

“D-Dean!” You scolded him. Your voice raised an octave or two in your embarrassment. The older hunter cast you a simple wink.

Castiel shook his head, paying no mind to the awkward atmosphere you were radiating in reaction to Dean’s words. “I’m unsure how their bond was put in place. For other angels, God did hand pick the angels and their soulmate counterparts and set the bond himself, however that was millennia ago. There have been no new fledglings since then, and therefore, no more bonds to create. How this one was made is beyond me.” The answer was just enough to answer a few of their questions, only to leave them with a handful more that would surely remain a mystery. 

A low groan escaped your lips as you settled your forehead on your knees, which were still tucked up against your chest. This was too much. This was way too much. You hadn’t even spilled your feelings about Jack and you were already going to be rejected, and by your soulmate no less. Jack surely saw you as just a friend, and as much as it hurt, you vowed to go forward however he wished. A moment or two passed in complete silence before anyone moved.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Sam announced. His chair legs squealed against the ground as he scooted away from the table to stand. The sound of Dean agreeing and standing up made itself prominent, followed by a quick _whack!_

“What?” Cas’s voice muttered in confusion. More silence, then, “Oh! Yes, yes I should leave as well. Very busy recently. Lots of things to get done. Being alive again is very time consuming. Good night everyone.” A tell tale flap of wings and a gust of wind strong enough to turn the pages of the book in front of you let you know that he had gone. Dean’s retreat to his bedroom was clear by the heavy footsteps overshadowing his faint muttering about Castiel’s cluelessness.

“(Y/N)?” Jack’s voice called softly from his place next to you. You let out a hum of acknowledgement, but refused to lift your head to meet his eyes. Apparently, this was not enough for the nephilim. He let out a sigh, and soon enough he had hooked his foot on the leg of your chair and dragged it over until it collided with his own with a _clank!_ Even still, your head stayed down. “(Y/N) please look at me?” 

“No thank you,” you muttered. Your voice was muffled through the denim of your jeans, but he understood you all the same. 

Another sigh from the man. The wing on your back grew heavier against your shoulders, as though he was no longer making an effort to hold it up. “Is it really so bad that you have to be with me?”

Your body froze. His voice wavered with uncertainty and self doubt. That one question was enough to make your heart shatter in your chest. He sounded broken by his realization - no, his idea that you didn’t want him. He thought you were going to reject him.

Your resolve faded away in that moment, and you carefully lifted your head to meet his watery eyed gaze. His lip quivered slightly with his breathing, and it took everything in you not to hold him close and make sure he never has to suffer again. His hands were in his lap, fingers toying with the fuzzy material along the inside of his jacket. He always told you how much he loved the jacket because it was so soft. It comforted him when he got scared. He was seeking out that comfort. Because of you.

“Jack, no, that’s not what this is about at all,” you whispered, being sure to meet his gaze in an attempt to prove your truthfulness. “It’s not bad for me, Jack. Not at all. I just… I worry about how you feel about this whole situation. I’m not exactly the best option you could’ve had. You could’ve been soulmates with a nice, normal, everyday citizen with none of this emotional baggage coming along with them. Someone without a hero complex, or memories of Hell, or enough nightmares behind their eyelids to give Stephen King a run for his money. You could’ve had someone like that, but instead it’s just… me.” You fought to swallow the rising lump in your throat as you finished speaking. 

“You… You aren’t ashamed of me?” Jack asked you in disbelief. The broken shards of your heart continued to crumble into dust. The absolute awe in his eyes over the simple fact that you weren’t ashamed to be his soulmate was devastating. He truly thought so little of himself already in his short life.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” you assured the nephilim. You dropped your feet back to the ground and reached towards him, resting your palm against his cheek. The tears he had built up along his bottom lid escaped their confines to trail down his cheeks. Your eyes followed the droplet as it made its way down along the curves of his face. Just before it reached his jawline, you raised your other hand up and swiped your thumb over the teardrop. Your finger followed the wet trail it left behind, wiping away the remnants until both palms were pressed against his cheeks. Your thumbs brushed carefully over his cheekbones as you cradled the man’s face in your hands. 

“But I’m an abomination. I’m Lucifer’s son, I might be evil. I could hurt you. I could kill you!” He insisted, his eyes growing panicked with each passing second. You shook your head.

“You’re not evil, and you won’t hurt me. I trust you. And so what if the angels think you’re an abomination? They say the same thing about Sam, you know. Is Sam bad?” He shook his head slowly. “Exactly. Sometimes… Sometimes people are treated badly just because of who they are. It’s not right, and it’s not good, but it happens. That’s why we do our best to prove those people wrong. Okay? You’ve saved people, and you’re going to continue saving people, because that’s who you are. You’re good, Jack. You’re so good, and I wish I could get you to believe that yourself.”

Once again you found yourself staring back at a pair of red rimmed, tear brimming eyes. If you thought he was in awe before, then this was absolute disbelief. His mouth hung just slightly ajar as his eyes scanned your face for any signs that you were lying. A moment passed, and he must have been satisfied with his findings, because soon enough he was pulling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours. You leaned in to the kiss and your eyes fluttered shut. The taste of the soda he had off to the side still lingered on his lips, and all too soon you had to pull away.

Jack’s eyes were shining in the low light of the library. He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his nose over yours in an affectionate manner. “I think I like kissing,” he commented in a soft tone. 

A chuckle escaped you. “Feel free to do it anytime, then,” you welcomed with a dazed grin. Jack smiled before connecting your lips with his own once again. He pulled you flush against him, and soon enough you were encompassed in the soft warmth of a pair of large white and golden wings, encapsulating you two together and blocking out the rest of the world, because in the end, none of that really mattered. As long as you had Jack by your side, you knew you could get through anything.


End file.
